


Belonging

by summerofspock



Series: Possession [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Dom Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Very light like barely dom/sub undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: Aziraphale doesn't exactly mind that Crowley gets jealous. In fact, Aziraphale knows exactly how to make Crowley feel better.For the prompt: Public Sex
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Possession [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931254
Comments: 22
Kudos: 344





	Belonging

**Author's Note:**

> In the series Possession but stands alone since you get a bit of a speed run of what happened in that fic during the beginning of this one.
> 
> I wouldn't exactly call this Healthy Relationship 101 so tread lightly if jealousy and possessiveness are touchy subjects for you.

Aziraphale should have known it would happen eventually. He had not been particularly discriminant in the location of the people he had dated and slept with before he and Crowley had finally moved their relationship forward. 

At the time he had not thought it mattered. He had been certain Crowley didn't feel a drop of love towards him. He'd tried to sense it often enough that he'd given up reaching out for it. It hurt more than it helped. And when he proposed the dating applications, Crowley was so supportive, helping him choose profile pictures and setting up his biographies. It only hurt a little that Crowley was not jealous of Aziraphale’s foray into the world of romance and carnal experiences. That he was practically indifferent. Sending Aziraphale off with a _good luck_ and a wiggle of his fingers as he continued to fiddle with his phone.

Except it turned out he'd been marvelously jealous. Desperately possessive. He’d wanted Aziraphale so badly he’d forced him to his knees in the bookshop and taken him. 

The memory never ceased to thrill Aziraphale.

Crowley. Beloved Crowley. _His_ demon. 

Aziraphale tried not to regret all the humans he had slept with in an attempt to forget Crowley. A difficult enterprise when, over a very nice dinner out, one approached him.

"Aziraphale?" the man said, coming up to the table. If Aziraphale recalled correctly, his name was Ben. He was quite handsome. Thin and tall and while his features didn't resemble Crowley in the least, his physicality was not dissimilar. Aziraphale firmly remembered being taken on his hands and knees, screwing his eyes shut and pretending the sharp hips snapping against his backside were someone else's entirely.

His stomach went cold.

He smiled. "Ah, Ben, it's good to see you. How are you?"

"Good!" he said and his grin was just as charming as Aziraphale remembered. ""I’m glad to see you're doing well. I was disappointed you didn’t call but I see why."

Then Ben reached out to shake Crowley's hand and Aziraphale wanted to slap it away. Good God there was going to be a fight. "I’m Ben."

"Anthony,'” Crowley said with a murderous smile as he shook the other man's hand.

Ben seemed none the wiser as he stepped away. "Well, you've got my number, Az. If you ever want to get coffee. As friends of course."

"Quite right," Aziraphale said and as Ben departed he found his appetite left with him.

It was silent for quite some time.

"Az," Crowley said finally.

"Humans find my name strange," Aziraphale said weakly.

Crowley hummed noncommittally and took another drink of wine.

"Crowley…"

"Did you fuck him more than once?" Crowley asked, not even looking at him.

"We only went on one date,” Aziraphale protested, stomach falling somewhere around his feet. They had been having such a nice date and it had been nearly a month since they’d had any trouble about the humans Aziraphale had slept with.

"That doesn't answer the question,” Crowley hissed.

"Do you really want the answer?" Aziraphale countered. He was starting to get frustrated. Crowley wasn’t being fair. None of this was fair.

Crowley grimaced, a harsh baring of teeth before looking away. He deflated entirely. "Fuck. I’m sorry. I should go. I don't want to do this right now."

Was this worse? Crowley shutting down rather than fighting? All Aziraphale knew was that it made his stomach hurt something awful. "Crowley, please. We should talk about this."

"Yeah, we should," Crowley said, scrubbing a hand over his face. "But probably not while all I can think about is bending you over this table and fucking you until you forget every human that's ever touched you."

Aziraphales chest probably shouldn't have warmed at the sentiment but it did. 

"That sounds rather nice actually."

Crowley shook his head warningly. "Don't say that."

Being fucked over the table in a restaurant full of people would be impractical but…

Aziraphale took his napkin out of his lap and set it on the table. 

Crowley continued, "I _know_ I'm being unreasonable and if I leave, we can talk about this tomorrow and...what are you doing?"

Aziraphale slipped under the tablecloth. "Reminding a very specific someone that they needn't be jealous."

"Angel…"

It could have been a warning, but it just sounded like encouragement. Aziraphale shuffled the few feet forward and gently pressed Crowley's knees apart so he could settle between them. He liked fellating Crowley so this was a familiar position, but the table made it cramped and the knowledge that the waitstaff were passing by and diners could hear them sent a little thrill through Aziraphale. He was Crowley’s; here at the demon’s feet; here to be of service.

He ran his palms up the seams of Crowley's jeans, his thighs fitting nicely in Aziraphale hands. He could already see the bulge in Crowley’s trousers and he knew he sported one to match.

Crowley cleared his throat, the first sound acknowledging that Aziraphale was touching him. Then he leaned back in his chair and his legs spread wider. Aziraphale could see the slope of his stomach rising up under the table cloth, the valley of it under his form fitting shirt. His own stomach clenched at the sight. He knew what Crowley looked like now when he finally shed his clothes, when he climbed into bed and kissed Aziraphale with a single-minded purpose. Aziraphale now knew the beautiful curl of his spine, the slight concave of his belly, the expanse of his ribs. And here, the spread of his thighs.

He reached for Crowley’s fly, delicately palming the hardness beneath before undoing the buttons one at a time. 

That was when Aziraphale realized Crowley wasn't wearing any pants. He sucked in a breath to stave off the tide of arousal at the sight. Crowley's hard cock pressed up against his belly, nestled in that thatch of red curls. Beautiful and perfect.

Pushing aside Crowley's flies, he drew him out with his hand and was rewarded with a small hitch of breath when he pressed an opened mouthed kiss to the base.

“Would you like more wine, sir?”

Aziraphale’s eyes flew open and he froze. He thought he’d be more frightened. Mortified. Instead, he felt a frisson of excitement, a spark passing down his spine. 

“Yes, ta,” Crowley said, sounding far too put together.

Disgruntled, Aziraphale took him entirely into his mouth. Crowley didn’t make a sound but his thighs twitched under his hands and that was very good so Aziraphale swallowed around the tip, relishing the pulse of bitter precome in his mouth. He listened to the waiter pouring wine above him, the chatter of the room as he swirled his tongue around Crowley’s cock. 

He heard the retreating footsteps of the waitstaff and then Crowley’s hand snaked under the table and fisted in his hair. 

“Naughty angel,” Crowley whispered, but he didn’t push him off. Instead, he pulled him further on his cock, not quite fucking his mouth but pulling him far enough that his cockhead hit the back of his throat. Aziraphale forced away a moan. He loved when Crowley did this. Used his mouth. Used him. He would never be able to feel Crowley’s love, not like he wanted to, but like this he almost imagined he could.

Crowley released his hair and his hand retreated, leaving Aziraphale to pull off and catch his breath. He rested his cheek on Crowley’s knee, breathing hard as he continued to work Crowley with his hand, his own spit slicking the way. 

The only disadvantage of this position was that Aziraphale couldn’t reach all of Crowley. His trousers were in the way, hiding his balls and his perineum, preventing Aziraphale from giving him everything. Maybe later, back at the bookshop, he could take Crowley’s trousers off entirely and he could kneel at Crowley’s feet while Crowley moved his head exactly where he wanted it, pushing it between his legs and telling him where he wanted his pretty angel tongue.

Aziraphale got light-headed thinking about it and he pushed the heel of his free hand against his aching erection. A little moan escaped his lips as he rushed to unzip his trousers, stuff his hand into his pants and wrap it around himself.

Taking Crowley back into his mouth, he worked slowly until he could bring his lips flush to the base. Crowley swore quietly and then cleared his throat.

“You’re going to kill me,” he murmured and his hand was back under the table, taking the hand that was now curled lightly on Crowley’s thigh. 

Why was it the simple act of holding hands that made Aziraphale’s stomach heat to the breaking point? His hand stuttered around his own erection as he made a mess of his pants, trying not to make a sound as he bobbed around Crowley’s cock.

It didn’t take long for Crowley’s hand to tighten in his, a silent warning, before he spilled in Aziraphale’s mouth, hot and bitter. Aziraphale swallowed, feeling blissed out and loved as Crowley clutched at his hand.

Crawling out from under the table was significantly less dignified than going under it, but thankfully no one noticed. Or at least Aziraphale didn’t think so. 

He gingerly wiped his mouth on his napkin and noticed Crowley was staring at him. “Yes, dear?” Aziraphale asked.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Crowley said. “No matter what I wanted, you didn’t have to.”

“I think it’s important you know that I very much wanted to,” Aziraphale said before flagging down a waiter to order dessert. 

After the man left with his order for creme brulee, Aziraphale asked as an afterthought, “Or did you fail to notice me orgasming at your feet?”

Crowley choked on his wine and turned a lovely shade of red. “I may have been, uh, distracted.”

Aziraphale smirked. “Good, that was rather the point.”


End file.
